I learned how to cook about two and a half years ago. Before then I didn’t know ANYTHING about food — I didn’t even know that curry was a spice. When I met my Lover, he bought the necessary items for me and encouraged me to learn the art. After a few apprehensive tries, I fell in love.
Unfortunately, I’ve spent about a year and a half since then either homeless or in makeshift living arrangements, so I haven’t had steady access to a kitchen. Because of this I tend to go all out with my dishes whenever I can. My chili, for example, tends to be a giant pot of meat, beans, and pure deliciousness. I cook a lot at once, because the left overs are always just as good as, or even better than, the the original meal.
I LOVE food. I like searching the internet for new things to try, and reminiscing about dishes I made that turned out really well. I like inventing my own recipes. It pleases me whenever I get a compliment, and I like to take pride in what I make. Food is one of those topics that I could talk about at length without growing tired of it.
Nothing beats a home cooked meal.
I approach spicing like a creative adventure. A little bit of this, a lot of bit of that, then taste. Add salt. In the beginning I used to smell everything and imagine how the flavors would combine, but now that I’m familiar with the spices I simply go by intuition. Every dish is different, and it’s always fun to eat the end result.
Eating is by far the best part.
I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they approach food, and I find it fascinating that what you eat can act as a window into your soul.